Good Themysciran Girls update

Diana didn’t know why she’d come. She knew why she’d been invited—she was always being invited to places, or rather, Wonder Woman was. Sometimes, Wonder Woman’s costume was… how she looked in her costume… Diana wondered how much the invitations would fall away as she added inches to her waistline, what the line graph would look like.

At any rate, she barely knew the host and hostess. The guests in the penthouse were all strangers. But she had promised herself not to grow too comfortable with being alone. There were good people out there, she should let them assuage her loneliness, rebuild the sense of community she’d had on Paradise Island…

Though, she wasn’t sure if any of those good people were in evidence at this party. Maybe she’d slip out, wander down to Times Square, mingle with whoever was still out at this time of night. They had to be more interesting than the current crowd. She might even get mugged. That was always entertaining.

Shaking her head, Diana asked the barman for a gin and tonic.

Someone in the corner was smoking a cigar. Diana was not sure if such a thing was considered daring or passé—she didn’t attend so closely to the current clime. Diana moved to accept her drink from the barman and the next thing she knew, a puff of cigar smoke was entering her space, the man looming beside her.

“Would you care for one?” he asked her, reaching into his jacket pocket to draw out a cigar tube.

Diana glanced at it. Its phallic shape hardly needed Freud to decode it. “Aren’t those expensive?”

“What’s a little expense for a priceless woman?”

Diana took the tube from him and extracted the Cuban prize from inside. “Priceless is just another word for ‘too costly to afford’.”

She reached for her lighter, but before she could find it, a streak of flame appeared in her vision. She accepted the light—then saw that the flame was issuing from a hundred dollar bill. Diana didn’t consider herself very materialist, but her eyes still widened.

“Or a bargain at any price.” He dropped the burning dollar into an ashtray. “I know it takes more than vulgar flash to impress you, but there’s only so much I can do for a first impression.”

Diana laughed, knowing she was opening the floodgates by relaxing her poker face, but she kinda wanted to impress this man too and she knew a smile would do it. The light and shadow at the bar cut her face into intriguing snippets; maybe enough to make him fall in love with her. “And you’d like more of my time to make a good impression?”

He glanced out the window. There was one thing she could say for this apartment—it provided a splendid view. All the way to Times Square and the ball-drop, counting down. “At least ten minutes’ worth,” he said with adroit sincerity.

She did kiss him in ten minutes, when it was New Year’s. Diana meant nothing special by the gesture, only to encourage him a little—he’d proven interesting and she didn’t want to snub him by breaking with tradition. But she felt his arms wrap around her as if partitioning her and him away from the singing crowd and then he lifted her up so she wasn’t even standing on the same ground as them.

As tall as she was, she had to be on tiptoes to kiss him, and he brought her up to his lips to really give it to her, his mouth covering hers, sucking on her tongue. Her arms wiggled briefly before they encircled him as well. That they were crowded in with others didn’t matter. Diana felt herself drowning in his kiss and she let herself be pulled under. When his lips came off of hers she was breathless, her face flushed and heated. She felt excited, aroused, certain that her body was returning the interest that this handsome, virile man had taken in her.

He washandsome, in a masculine way, carrying himself as though he knew it, but was heedless of it. Relying on other, stronger forces within himself to make his way through the world. Mirthful, strong, with a strikingly attractive face, young features set around old eyes, shadowed under long, wild hair. She reminded him strongly of Conan—almost the second coming of him—and Diana found herself wishing it was so, that he had the same heart as Conan, that he could fuck her half so well as…

Well. What would the other Amazons say about that?

She didn’t know that she cared. From the feel of his hands on her body she was responding to him. Wasn’t that the important thing? She knew from the way his body rubbed against hers that he had much more to interest her than some nostalgic resemblance. And if he did remind her of Conan, so what? Wasn’t that as good a reason as any to take him to bed? It was her life, after all. If she’d found out the kind of man that could show her a good time—if she had a type—then what did she care what people thought?

She decided to test him, though. Now that she’d put her finger on who he reminded her of, she wanted to know if it was just a physical resemblance or if he had some of Conan’s spirit as well. That peculiar blend of honor and machismo that she couldn’t take offense to, it was so striking in its sincerity. “It’s late. I should be going.”

“Should you?” he countered. “The streets aren’t safe this time of night.”

“I can take care of myself,” she pointed out.

“You can’t stop them from looking at you.”

“Should I?” she teased.

“Most men don’t deserve to look at you,” he husked. “Come with me and they’ll know you belong to someone. Someone who isn’t as forgiving as a superhero has to be.”

“You’re bold,” she said, not making it a complaint.

“No man gets what he wants without trying for it.”

“I’ve been letting you try a lot.”

“You’re worthy of persistence. And you wouldn’t put up with it if you didn’t want to be had.”

She licked her lips. “Call us a cab.”

They went downstairs to wait for it to arrive. The man’s name was Conor Ness. He kissed her in the lobby, again when they entered the taxi. His lips struck her ear and neck, until Diana turned her lips to his. He shoved her into the backseat with his body, one hand on her thigh, his mouth endlessly seeking out hers. There was a light snow coming down, tasted by the car’s headlights, and the driver went as slow as Conor didn’t. By the time they reached Diana’s building, it was a certainty he’d come up for a drink. Her thighs still wore the red squeezes of his strong hands.

Diana liked the athletic stretch of his legs, his shaggy black hair, the flash of his dark eyes as he dropped himself on her couch like it was a conquered throne. When she joined him, drinks for both of them in hand, he was looking at a picture on the coffee table.

“My sister,” she said, handing him a whiskey sour. “Donna. And that’s Cassie, another friend.”

Conor eased his eyes from the photo. “I thought they might be your children.”

“Do you think I’m that old?” Diana teased him.

“Maybe. You don’t have the air of someone who’d age poorly. And I imagine it’s impossible for your children not to inherit your looks.”

“You’re direct.”

“You appreciate it.” He put his hand on her knee. Diana felt warm and wet inside, an electric current flickering between the core of her and where he’d placed his hand. “You’re as bloody-minded as it’s possible for a woman with your grace to be. I like that. I imagine it’s nothing new for men to appreciate you, but that’s no reason to hold back how I feel. You’re one in a million.”

Diana still wasn’t sure she would fuck him, but it was also still exciting to flirt with him. And she knew she needn’t fear him, even if she didn’t have superpowers, so it did no harm to sit with him and talk.

She grew hotter, though, more electric tension between her legs as she traded words with Conor. The topic seemed to turn, again and again, to sex, or at least innuendo. The vodka she drank didn’t cool her down at all. She found herself staring at the bulge in Conor’s trousers. She wanted to run her fingers through the hair that showed at the unbuttoned collar of his shirt.

While she was staring at the front of his pants, Conor was looking down the front of Diana’s dress. Her proud breasts pushed her hemline out as if inviting him to look in on her lush cleavage, while the slit of her dress ran high up her thighs. Conor wasn’t sure where to look… at those gorgeous breasts or at her succulent thighs.

“You realize, of course,” she whispered, “that if you keep looking at me like that, you’re going to have to let me know what it is I’m making you think about.”

“I can’t think of anything I’d like more,” Conor replied before covering her mouth with his.

When his arms surrounded her body, Diana thought the heat and the excitement were more intense than she felt even on Apokolips. The thrill of it being so torrid, so new, outweighed any apprehension about what a stranger this man was. When Conor’s hard body forced hers down on the couch, she clung to him and kiss him hard. She let him play with her tongue as much as he wanted.

“Kiss my neck. Bite it,” she moaned, feeling Conor tease her ear with his tongue. He soon did, the same way Conan would’ve, sharp teeth driving into her tender skin. “Ohhh, yes, harder!”

Soon, Conor was working at the zipper on the back of Diana’s dress while she writhed and moaned. “Hurry and strip me, Conor. I can’t wait for you to take my breasts. Bite my nipples. Make them hurt.”

Conor pulled her dress down off her shoulders; she helped him pull it away from her arms. He saw her bra, her plump breasts trapped inside it, bulging from its cups, devouring their flimsy confinement with their swollen fullness. He couldn’t wait to get at them. He left the dress bunched around her waist and reached to rip away her bra.

“Let me,” Diana said, dancing back like a viper. She was in no mood to lose a bra to Conor’s tearing hands. Instead, she reached behind herself and released the catch. Conan’s hands were quick then, grabbing the bra and pulling it away from her aching chest. Intact, but it virtually disappeared from her skin with how fast he snatched it away.

“What beauties!” Conor blurted out, seeing Diana’s bare tits, their pregnant heft rolling out from her athletic shoulders, her frame that blended stout muscle with graceful slenderness at some impossible midpoint.

Diana appreciated the compliment, but the best compliment she knew was for him to make her feel what she was anticipating so hotly. “No more talk,” she said, pulling his face to her impassioned chest.

Conor did it just as she had liked Conan doing it. His mouth sucked in almost all of her left breast, teeth attacking her tender flesh. The nipple stiffened in his mouth so much that it hurt a little, the pain only going away when he sucked at it—eclipsed by a wellspring of pleasure that had her gasping, mewling like an animal in heat. She held his head down on her tit and begged for more.

“Hera, you make my breasts feel so good when you do that! More! Bite them! Suck them! You’ve got so much of my tit in your mouth, Conor! Play with it—enjoy it. You won’t hurt me. Give it to me as hard as you want.”

Conor shoved her down onto the couch, holding his shaggy head steady so that he looked down on her. “I wasn’t finished looking at them before. Hold on a minute. Let me enjoy the view.”

“You can look at them all you want—later. Just kiss them now, Conor, please…”

She pulled at his thick arms, trying to ply him back down to her chest, but he was as stubborn as his forebear, enjoying a good long look at her breasts, playing his callused fingers delicately over them, only sampling their firmness and feel instead of truly enjoying them.

“By God, they’re firm.”

Kneeling over her, he put his hands on her tits and squeezed. Diana cooed at the magnificent pressure he exerted, really groping her, trusting she could handle being treated as roughly in bed as she was in battle.

“Harder!” Diana whimpered.

Conor smiled, understanding what she wanted. “You don’t like being made love to, do you, princess? You like being fucked.” He put even more pressure on her breasts, enough to bend metal, but her resilient flesh only took that tightness and turned it into pleasure. Diana moaned and grabbed his wrists, determined not to let him go back to only enjoying the sight of her.

“Fuck yes,” she breathed. “Treat me like that, Conor. Treat me like… like no one else will treat me,” she pleaded, not caring how she sounded, that she’d only met this man an hour ago. She felt like she had known him all her life, this doppelganger of Conan—that if she couldn’t trust him, she could at least trust him to be the same man as Conan had been. To live, burning with life, to love, to compete, and be content with the hard-won spoils of his efforts.

Conor shook his head in amazement. “I’d never know by looking at you that underneath that elegant exterior…”

“What? That I’m like you? You’ll do it the way I like, won’t you, Conor? And in return, you’ll let me do anything I like. Let me suck you off… suck your cum… swallow it… you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Like me being your bitch in heat?”

“I’d like anything with your naked body involved,” Conor replied. “But if that’s what you’d like, I’ll give you what you want.”

“Yes… give me what I want… we always get what we want, don’t we Conor?”

“We do tonight,” he growled.

His mouth went back to her tits, claiming them, devouring them. Diana thrashed on the couch under him, her hands at his lap, trying to get his belt and fly out of the way. She didn’t want him to take the time to get his clothes off. She only wanted his cock out, while he kept his mouth and hands on her hot flesh.

“I want your cock,” she breathed, unnecessarily, the words just shooting out of her as she reached into his open zipper and tugged and yanked at his erection until it sprang free. “Great Hera,” she gasped with her hand around it. It was as big as Conan’s had been, long and thick, and she already knew Conor could use it. “I love to feel a big fat cock inside me.”

“Take that dress all the way off and I’ll give it to you until you can’t take anymore.”

“You’ll never do that,” Diana smirked as she helped him undress her the rest of the way, then squirming out of her panties. She paused to let him see her, all she wore now her bracers, her jewelry, and the high heels she had on just to vex people by making herself even taller than she was.

“Damn,” Conor groaned, looking at her, taking in the stylized W that her pubic thatch had been carved into, and the neat little slit that was under it. “I’ve always wondered what Amazons taste like…”

He lowered his head to her groin, but Diana pushed his shaggy mane away. “No, not that. You’ve played with me enough. It’s my turn to play with you. I want your cock in my mouth. I want to see how hard you can fuck my throat before I let you have my pussy.”